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The Hollow Carnival by Jeanette Clarke
Not all fairy tales end with a kiss.Some end with claws in your hips.Where pleasure is a knife. Eternity, the wound.Midnight. Fog. A carnival of poisoned silk and teeth.Its ringmaster waits—Mordecai. Horns. Silver eyes. Velvet commands that lick like fire down your spine.His offer: Dawn for your surrender.But his games ruin:Mirrors that f*ck your mind with forbidden truthsRides that carve ecstasy into your bonesKnives that strip you bare just to watch you shakeYou’ll beg for his bite.You’ll arch for his blade.You’ll scream his name like a prayer as he remakes you——into something hungry.Something divine.Something his.Step through the arch.Open your thighs to the dark.Your corruption begins now.For audiences 18+Please read the Trigger Warnings Page